


oasis

by armethaumaturgy



Series: sormik week 2017 [6]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Heat Stroke, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: Mikleo’s hands grip his staff loosely and his shoulders are slouched, but as soon as he registers Sorey’s voice, he straightens up and jumps back into the fray.“I’m fine,” he reassures Sorey, but his voice doesn’t sound sure at all and right as he spins to deliver a water attack, he loses his balance and falls onto the sand in an unceremonious heap, his staff following with a dull thud as it falls on top of him.





	oasis

**Author's Note:**

> written for the sormik week, day 4 [loss + protection]
> 
> it was also a commission <3

The beating sun stays in the sky for longer here than anywhere else, it feels like. Or maybe it’s just the lack of shadows that makes it feel so; the last tree they stopped under to give their hot skin a little reprieve almost wasn’t big enough, and that was while all the Seraphim were gone.

No one is quite sure of the time, though Edna does grumble that they’d been running around all day, and frankly, they’d all be much, much happier if they could get out of this hotland and back somewhere cool and shaded. Preferably an inn. And preferably right  _now_.

Sorey hops upright with a small groan and offers a hand to Rose. “Come on, the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll be out of here,” he says, and Rose just silently nods. Although she hadn’t complained once all day, it was more than obvious to everyone that she was not fond of the sun and the way her clothes were sticking to her skin in the slightest.

The trek is slow as their feet sometimes get stuck in the sand, and the only reprieve offered is the wind that cools them down a little as it comes and goes. The Seraphim don’t even bicker in Sorey’s head, which is nothing if not a blessing. He isn’t sure he could stand to listen to another one of Zaveid’s monologues, or, worse yet, him trying to flirt with Lailah.

He falls so deep into his thought that he doesn’t even notice that there’s a Needler on their right until it almost snags his arm. Rose jumps away more on an instinct than anything, drawing her blades, equally as taken by surprise.

Sorey’s heart skips a beat and he calls the first name that enters his name; “Mikleo!”

Mikleo materializes with a flash, almost as bright as the sun itself, while Rose calls upon Lailah. There’s not many Needlers, just a handful, but Sorey isn’t sure how they managed to miss them. Probably has to do with the heatwaves in the air messing with them.

Sorey and Mikleo fall into their usual routine, synchronizing their attacks without so much as a word, and the first Needler falls almost immediately under Sorey’s blade. The second one does not, and Sorey realizes Mikleo is lagging a little with his attacks.

“Mikleo?” Sorey calls out, turning to look at the Seraph.

Mikleo’s hands grip his staff loosely and his shoulders are slouched, but as soon as he registers Sorey’s voice, he straightens up and jumps back into the fray. “I’m fine,” he reassures Sorey, but his voice doesn’t sound sure at all and right as he spins to deliver a water attack, he loses his balance and falls onto the sand in an unceremonious heap, his staff following with a dull thud as it falls on top of him.

“Mikleo!” Sorey cries again, louder and more worried. He swings his sword wildly and he’s lucky there’s only two Needlers left, because such a reckless fighting style could’ve cost him his life were there stronger opponents.

Rose and Lailah are done with their enemy first and separate from the armatus almost immediately.

“Mikleo!” Lailah cries, running over to the fallen Seraph to check on him. Her slender hands fumble for a pulse, and an almost sob-like sigh leaves her lips when she finds it. Mikleo’s skin is far too hot as she touches him, but he’s definitely still alive and breathing. “Thank gods,” she utters.

Edna holds onto her umbrella tightly as she leans over to look at Mikleo, and Zaveid pops up as well. Everyone’s expressions unanimously scream worry, though Edna manages to mask it with her usual stoic mask.

“Heat stroke,” Edna says, eyes glossing over Mikleo’s reddened skin.

“Mickey isn’t made for this heat,” Zaveid agrees, “We gotta cool him down.”

“What about that oasis we found earlier? It’s not that far from here,” comes Lailah’s suggestion, “Plus it’s water, so it should help Mikleo twice as much.”

Sorey nods immediately.  “Yeah. I’ll carry him there. You guys can keep going back.”

“What! That’s dangerous!”

“There’s no reason for you to come back there, Rose. It’ll be better to know you’re safe back out of here,” Sorey says, gently scooping up Mikleo’s lax body into his arms. None of the Seraphim protest, but that’s only because they all know Sorey couldn’t keep them away even if he wanted.

“I’ll go with Rose, just in case,” Lailah says and Sorey nods again.

“Take care of her.”

“And I’ll stay to fan Mikleo a little,” Zaveid says, more of a statement than a suggestion.

Sorey throws him a grateful smile either way while he adjusts Mikleo against his chest, making sure his head isn’t lulling backwards. “Thanks, Zaveid.”

“Come on, Sorey, we better hurry up before Mickey here kicks the bucket.”

“Yes, please do hurry! We will wait at the inn for you.” Lailah twists and pulls Rose by the hand; she hurries more for her own sake than Rose’s. She’s worried, but she does trust Sorey to take care of Mikleo, and Zaveid to take care of both of them.

“C’mon,” Zaveid prompts, leading the way through the heat. Sorey follows him close behind, looking down to check on Mikleo every few seconds to make sure he’s not getting worse.

His face is red and there’s no sweat to be found anywhere, but at least his expression is neutral. Sorey banks on that being a good thing.

Zaveid creates a wind, and it feels unrealistically good as it swirls around them, playing with their clothes and cooling their skin without hindering their movements. Sorey makes a mental note to thank the wind Seraph again.

It’s easier to ignore the heat now that he has Mikleo to protect. His eyes dart around whenever he isn’t checking on the Seraph, to make sure there are no random Needlers about to jump them again. Zaveid seems to be doing the same, keeping his eyes peeled while they make their way back.

“Mickey boy looks like he fits right in your arms,” Zaveid comments with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Sorey blinks at him. “I’ve carried him a lot. Usually he complains, though.”

“Well, at least you don’t gotta bicker, huh?”

Sorey gazes down at Mikleo’s chapped, parted lips. “I’d prefer that, honestly.”

Zaveid purses his lips and stays quiet after that exchange.

The oasis is further than both of them thought — which means they travelled more than they thought, too. By the time they finally spot the familiar trees, the sun is finally going down in the sky, the shadows are lengthening and the air feels more breathable.

The sound of water gently splashing against plants and humming insects has never been more welcome than right then. Zaveid gives Sorey a wide grin a pat on the shoulder, though he stays uncharacteristically silent, disappearing with a flash and leaving him alone to gently lower Mikleo onto the side of the spring.

Sorey isn’t sure if he’s thankful or not for the privacy, but as he starts to wiggle Mikleo out of his clothes, he decides that yeah, he’s pretty thankful, even if it is a pain to try and move the lax limbs. Mikleo might not feel comfortable being seen half-naked. Though, that’s one of the lesser worries Sorey has right now.

When he gets Mikleo down to just his underwear, he gently sits him down onto the edge, making sure his head stays above. He might be a water Seraph, but even he can’t breathe underwater.

Sorey seats himself right next to him, wetting a handkerchief and holding it against his forehead, brows creased with worry as he looks at the other boy. He can’t judge his temperature accurately anymore, the water skews his feeling, but he thinks it’s slowly starting to go down.

Just like the sun.

“You’re an idiot,” Sorey mumbles into the quiet air, wringing the handkerchief to wet it and place it back. Everything is suddenly too quiet without everyone else.

Now that they’re out of danger, the whole thing suddenly hits him. It just hits him, square in the chest, with the same power as a goblin cart. He could’ve lost Mikleo today, just like that. If there were more enemies, or stronger enemies, or if they got overrun…

Mikleo would be gone. He wouldn’t see his beautiful smile again, wouldn’t have another chance to get lost in his eyes. That thought is more painful than he had ever thought.

“ _I’m_  an idiot,” he clarifies, brushing Mikleo’s silky hair out of his face. He re-dunks the cloth and prays to whoever is listening to him that Mikleo will be fine and wakes up soon.

And for once, it seems that whoever it is listening to him, actually listens. Mikleo stirs, blinking his eyes open. They stare forward, unfocused, until Sorey notices and exclaims a, “Mikleo! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Mikleo’s head tilts and his eyes finally focus. “Sorey…” he rasps, “What happened?”

“You passed out,” Sorey explains, “from the heat. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a stone…” Mikleo raises a hand to rub at his eyes, getting his whole face wet in the process. Surprised, he holds out his hand to look at the moisture clinging to it. He just seems to notice he’s sat in the water. “Where are we?”

“Back at the oasis. Lailah said the water would help you. Why didn’t you say you were getting a heat stroke?”

Mikleo twists away, looking to the exact opposite side of Sorey. The brunet only catches his words because he’s so used to his quiet muttering. “Well, it’s not like I’ve ever had one. I just thought I was tired.”

Sorey sags, laying his head on top of his knees. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he mumbles back, “I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner.”

Mikleo chuckles, turning around to punch Sorey’s shoulder like usually, but he loses his balance and almost slides into the pond. He only catches himself on the edge, and starts laughing further.

“Punch yourself for me?” he asks, looking up with those eyes Sorey loves so much. To think he could’ve never seen then again…

Sorey obeys, punching his shoulder lightly. “There, happy?”

“Yup,” Mikleo grins, “I’d do it myself, but I’m still wonky. And hey, if I didn’t know, how could you have? It’s fine.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” Sorey pouts, turning away to hide the blush that starts blossoming on his cheeks. It’s not very visible in the setting dusk, but Mikleo knows him too well to miss it even in pitch darkness.

“Well— did I?”

“No, we carried you over as quick as we could.”

“See, then it’s—” Mikleo freezes, eyes widening. “You  _carried_ me?!”

“Well what else was I supposed to do?! Drag you along on the sand?”

Mikleo doesn’t have a retort for that, so they fall silent, Mikleo leaning over the edge of the oasis and Sorey sitting next to him. It doesn’t last very long, though, as Sorey’s anxiety makes him pipe up.

“Hey, Mikleo?”

“Hm?” the Seraph hums, looking up again with a quirked brow, silently asking ‘what is it?’

“Can I kiss you?”

Mikleo blinks, and erupts into giggles again. “Since when do you ask me?”

Sorey flubs, looking away and gripping his knees tightly. “Well, I just… I dunno! I don’t want to make your pain worse!”

Gods, if Zaveid is somehow watching them, he must be getting a kick out of him.

“I’m fine now,” Mikleo reassures him, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He leans in and Sorey mirrors him until their lips press together, Mikleo’s stretched into a wide smile. “See?” he teases when he pulls away.

Sorey chuckles as well. “Sorry, I just… I thought about how you could’ve… died today. Just wanted to make sure you’re here?”

Mikleo’s grin morphs into a somber smile and he pushes himself further out of the water to sit next to Sorey. He leans his head onto the other’s shoulder. “I feel the same. Something could happen tomorrow, or after that. We might not beat Heldalf. So much could go wrong. But worrying about it doesn’t really help us...”

“I know, I know,” Sorey mutters, wrapping an arm around Mikleo’s shoulders and pulling him even closer, as close as physically possible.

And he leans down and kisses Mikleo again. And again, and again, leaving tiny pecks and pulling at his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. Mikleo kisses back just as eagerly, sneaking his tongue between Sorey’s lips and rubbing it along Sorey’s until they’re both breathless.

“Help me dry off,” Mikleo says more than asks, “It’s getting cold.”

Sorey raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, and what should I do? Let you use my cape as a towel?”

Mikleo pretends to think about it, even putting a hand up to his chin as he ‘ponders’. “Nope!” he says, way too cheery, “Your clothes will do just fine!”

Sorey doesn’t get enough time to think about what that could mean before Mikleo pounces onto him and they roll over the grass, Mikleo’s weight on top of him and his fingers skirting along his ribs, pulling a bubbly laugh from his lungs.

He retaliates as soon as the surprise wears off, tickling Mikleo back. They end up squishing each other on the ground in their fight to get on top, and when they fall breathless, Mikleo wheezing out an ‘I surrender!’, the Seraph really is dry again.

Mikleo puts his clothes back on, but they lay there like that for a moment longer, gazing up at the darkening sky. Stars twinkle into existence one after another, and for just a moment, it doesn’t feel like they’re on a giganteus journey to save the world anymore.

“Hey, Sorey?” Mikleo says his name like he always does, with a touch of love and no small amount of familiarity. Mikleo’s hand finds Sorey’s and their fingers entwine, just laying there on the ground.

“Yeah?”

“I’m cold.”

The breeze that sweeps past them is no longer warm and welcoming, but just like the rest of the desert, is now chilly and biting. Sorey scoots closer and takes his cape off, throwing it over Mikleo. “Better?”

“Not really,” Mikleo deadpans, but he wrings the cape tighter around himself anyhow, not letting Sorey take it back. “Thanks.”

“We should head to the city. I mean, unless you want to shiver here all night and get another heat stroke tomorrow.”

This time, Mikleo’s arm wiggles from under the cape and punches his shoulder perfectly, making him laugh. “I can’t believe you’re already making fun of that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sorey says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest as he still snickers.

“Well, come on then. I definitely do not want to stay here and wait for a cactus to try and kill me,” Mikleo says, standing up and pulling Sorey along with their linked hands.

“I don’t know the way,” Sorey confesses when Mikleo starts walking in a random direction.

“What do you mean you don’t know the way? How did you get here then?!”

Sorey shrugs noncommittally. “Zaveid.”

And like on cue, Zaveid pops up, looking down at the two of them with a small smirk. “You humble guide has arrived.”

“Hey Zaveid,” Mikleo greets him. Sorey does his best not to make eye contact. Or face him. At all.

“Mikleo, are you doing alright? And why are you wearing Sorey’s cape?” the wind Seraph asks, intentionally loudly. Sorey mentally groans; he’s really enjoying this, isn’t he?

Mikleo does a little twirl, letting the cape float a bit. “I was cold. I still am, so let’s hurry up.”

“I can also give you some clothes if you want,” Zaveid suggests, grinning widely, but he does lead the way out of the oasis and through the silent desert.

“You’re not even wearing a shirt,” Sorey points out.

“And I definitely don’t want to see you pantless.”

“You guys are no fun.”

“How are you not even cold anyway?” Mikleo asks, looking at Zaveid’s bare chest skeptically.

“Mickey… I am. I’m so cold now, you can’t even imagine. That’s why I’m going back into Sorey’s head and I’ll navigate you from there.”

“Coward,” Mikleo mutters, laughing, as Zaveid form dissipates into shards of light.

“Are you going to leave too?” Sorey asks Mikleo, but he just shakes his head.

“I would, but I’m kinda comfy with the cape. Plus I don’t get to hold your hand when I’m not here,” he explains, grabbing said hand.

Sorey smiles, squeezing Mikleo’s hand and swinging it as Zaveid tells him to keep going forward.


End file.
